Daydream Of Laughter
by CTMsunday
Summary: Shelagh found that all laughter isn't good, but can Patrick persuade her otherwise? Oneshot completely irrelevant to anything, apart from the cup of tea I had that sparked my imagination.


"Would you like a cup of tea?"

She jumped in shock, almost as if she'd forgotten that she was sat next to her husband, of just over two months, on their fading golden coloured sofa.

"Yes. Please." she briefly smiled at him. The last few days she had constantly slipped into moments of daydreaming, whether it was about a family picnic in the nearest park, reading a bedtime story to their baby, if they were ever blessed with one, or how she would spend a few moonlit hours with Patrick in the privacy of their bedroom. This time, however, it had been a different dream. It wasn't l anything specific, but all she could waswas laughter. The Turner household was rarely not filled with humorous laughter, but this was different, it was laughter at somebody. And it seemed, as she thought about the dream again whilst the kettle in the kitchen whistled, that the laughter was pointed at her, just as it had been all those years ago.

"Here you go sweetheart" he said, placing the cup and saucer on the small table in front if the sofa. "Did I scare you earlier?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Just daydreaming"

"Daydreaming about all this spare time we have today with no Tim in the house I hope." Patrick smirked, and nuzzled behind her left ear with his right arm draped round her waist, drawing her ever closer to him. Not that she needed any encouragement to do so.

They had decided that after they had got married, every couple of months, Patrick would ask for a day off work. On the same day they would send Tim to see Granny Parker. Neither party minded, and Shelagh and Patrick both enjoyed having the day to themselves. As no outing was planned, Shelagh decided to wear no make-up, a plain green dress and a simple updo. However, after ensuring that her husband's 'needs' were met and take care of that morning, her appearance had become to look a bit, dishevelled.

"Umm... No," She replied, lines started to appear in between her brows, and her body started to tense up, "No."

Patrick's lips slowed to a stop, and he sat up to look at her. She, however, didn't look back at him.

"Darling? What is it?"

"I... I don't know. It's probably nothing... I... It's nothing" she clenched up further, and to Patrick, it seemed it wasn't clearly wasn't nothing. The best way to get her to open up was gentle persuasion, whether this involved physical touching, or murmurings to her, it dSo he reached ter.

So he reached across to the table in the middle of the room, and lifted the cooled down cup of tea and gently handed to her. Unfortunately, h on the cup grip didn't tighten on the cup as he let go of it, and it fell into her lap. The lukewarm liquid soaked straight through her summer dress. She immediately stood up, replacing the tea cup on its saucer, and looked down at the large stain on her dress. Now she would have to go and change, and then wash this as soon a possible... And... And...

Patrick took one look at her appearance and let out a mighty roar of laughter. He wasn't being horrible, but it was the first time he had seen her anything other than immaculate. Yet, she still couldn't be anymore beautiful to him. He reached out to pull her next to him, but she hesitated and her arms stiffened by her side.

"Shelagh?" He questioned, his laughing stopping immediately, and concern filled his voice. "Shelagh. Look at me. What is it?"

She gingerly looked up into his eyes, her own sparkling with tears. That was the laughter that had taunted her only moments ago in her thoughts. The laughter that was pointed to her, just as it had been in her childhood. The only girl in her small village school to wear glasses, was considered suitable grounds for constant teasing. And when her mother died, it had only got worse.

"I... I didn't mean to laugh. It's just... You're so beautiful." He reached out again and took a gentle hold of her right hand.

"I don't understand." She shuffled ever-so-slightly nearer to him so that her legs were touching his knees, as she stood in front of him.

"Well, Margaret always told me that she needed to always wear make-up and jewellery because it made her feel beautiful. Without it, she said I would laugh at her ugliness."

"So you think I'm... I'm ugly" She took a larger step away, only to be instantly pulled back again and dragged into her husband's lap.

"No, no! Oh, no my darling. The complete opposite, I assure you! I had seen you stripped bare for many years before I even knew how you'd look with make-up, or a pretty dress on. I've realized that it doesn't matter what anyone wears, it's their personality that counts, and what's in their heart. And I fell in love with your heart, rather than what you wore. It's the first time I've felt that Margaret has been wrong about anything!"

His sentence in a long kiss ended abruptly when her lips met his in a long kiss, as a thank you gesture.

She looked up shyly at him with a darkening pink tinge forming on her cheeks "So you didn't like my habit then? You'd rather see me... Stripped bare?" She got no worded answer, just a sharp intake of breath and increasingly restless hands tiptoeing along her back. "You know, this dress will need to be taken off before it soaks through even more."

He wasted no time in undoing the zip at the back and helping her to slip out of it.

"Shelagh." Was all he could say before he drove his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply.

"Why don't you come and help me choose a new dress darling?" She suggested with a subtle wink as she climbed off his lap and made her way toward the stairs that lead to their bedroom.

"I don't think you're going to be needing to wear any clothes at all my love" He shot straight to her, grabbed her hand and heard her giggle loudly as she was pulled up the stairs and to their bed


End file.
